Feelings are emotion, and a wise man once told me the more you overreact, overthink, and breakdown-the more you feel. This poem is a short dive into that.

My mind often drifts, and when I tend to be thinking of letting my facade drop, they cross my mind.

No one else had taken the time to listen to me ramble; ramble about my obsession with him; and yet he himself does. This must be love.

A lil' history on Sverd i fjell!

If you know me, I'm a bit of a true crime junkie. I find joy in documenting cases, cold or solved, and sharing them with whoever likes to listen. I hope you enjoy a few I covered myself!

Bubba "Leatherface" Sawyer, a forced serial killer and cannibal. Bubba was born around the year 1939, but his exact date of birth was never given. Bubba is considered a man-baby who kills in the idea of defending himself and his family; even to the point, as portrayed in the film "Leatherface," to kill someone whom he has a rather large interest in. Though as Bubba gets older his thoughts on murder slowly change, and with that his thoughts on cannibalism. Which leads him to not kill Stretch when he was first told to by his brother, in "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2". This story in particular is based on the character Leatherface, Bubba Sawyer in particular, and his journey to a better life with you by his side. To be clear, some characters such as Stretch and others have been removed for the sake of this fanfic. Oh, and for the record every title ties into the next chapter! (Yes, this will be found on another account. But I assure you that this is my pieces, my partner can back me up. I was logged out of my other account and couldn't get back in, so I started from step one and moved to this newer account.)

His words always leave me speechless. (Yes, this will be found on another account. But I assure you that this is my poetry pieces, my partner can back me up. I was logged out of my other account and couldn't get back in, so I started from step one and moved to this newer account.)

Warning: This story contains stalking and Stockholm syndrome, which may be uncomfortable to some readers. (Yes, this will be found on another account. But I assure you that this is my pieces, my partner can back me up. I was logged out of my other account and couldn't get back in, so I started from step one and moved to this newer account.)

This poem was originally dedicated to a Texan friend of mine for his birthday, however I don't want to consider it that anymore; but as my own piece without dedication. (Yes, this will be found on another account. But I assure you that this is my poetry pieces, my partner can back me up. I was logged out of my other account and couldn't get back in, so I started from step one and moved to this newer account.)

When you find yourself deathly dedicated to a relationship, you find yourself craving for these words. He gifted me with them. (Yes, this will be found on another account. But I assure you that this is my poetry pieces, my partner can back me up. I was logged out of my other account and couldn't get back in, so I started from step one and moved to this newer account.)